


absentmindedly

by moonvalentine



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Coming of Age, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonvalentine/pseuds/moonvalentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuu-centric glimpses of life on the road, balancing polar opposites, searching for sunflowers, and learning about love in its countless forms. series of one shots. fuu/mugen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: this is a work in progress, as always-- the length of each one will be different, some way longer or shorter than the others. i'm trying to follow the general timeline of the series, but as i keep writing i've started jumping around a little bit. i'm hoping i don't jinx myself by posting this before i'm finished, lol. comments are always appreciated!

Mugen was wild. Anyone could tell just by looking at him. His hair was an unruly mess that stuck out from his head, wind-tangled and sweat-twisted and as wide as his cocky, crooked grin. He fought with unpredictable movements. He lived with impulse. He took every breath of his life as a challenge he had no doubt of winning, even if everyone else did.

And despite this, there was a distinct something about him Fuu could trust. She knew it from the moment he’d entered the teahouse, glancing around it with a bored scowl. Maybe it was because of the sheathed sword casually slung around his back, or the calloused palms that rested under the tails of his faded, tattered shirt. Perhaps it was because of the long, thin scars on his neck and face, mystically silver against the sun-browned skin where his matted hair had been pushed away. It could have been because he sat with an almost palpable confidence, casually crossing his bony ankle over his other leg though he itched for a fight.

No, that couldn’t have been it. Fuu had seen plenty of the arrogant type since she’d begun working there. It took everything she had not to shout and pour boiling water on them all. The prefect’s son, running his mouth across the room then, was perfectly rude and entitled. He was like all the regulars she dreaded serving, always praying he wouldn’t stick a grimy hand into her robes as he did his other female companions. Most of the men who drank here were younger, greedy and self-important, and the rest of the customers were grumpy old men who hardly acknowledged her. At first glance, Mugen could have blended into the rest of them, simply becoming another annoyance for Fuu to endure until he finished his tea.

But then, as the prefect’s son mouthed off at her again, Mugen crooked his finger to signal her closer and mumbled words which made her wonder fleetingly if he’d read her mind: 

_I’ll take him out for you for fifty dumplings._

Adrenaline shot down her spine and prickled the skin on every inch of her body. She didn’t know then that she was capable of causing so much chaos and bloodshed, but knew without a doubt that Mugen could carry out his threat. Without even thinking, without knowing what this would mean for her life, she whispered back a bargain.

_Make it twenty._

She knew the second the words left her mouth what made her trust him so immediately. Above him knowing how easily she would fold to his offer, above him realizing her want for escape, above his sheer reckless power, she knew deep within herself that Mugen held the power to give her what she needed: a chance to change her life. A chance to leave and fulfill the dream she’d carried all this time. A chance to find her sunflower samurai.

To Fuu, that alone was worth all the dumplings in the country, even if she only offered him a hundred.

**—**

The next evening found Fuu running toward the edge of town with the two men she’d saved from execution. She was far less agile and her legs were much shorter, so she lagged behind them for a bit, but she knew she wouldn’t be left behind. She had been left behind by so many before, especially her mother and father. 

Not anymore.

It was her turn to run away, to leave her former life in the dust. 

She sucked in gasps of air as she clumsily sprinted behind Mugen and Jin, inhaling the scents of gunpowder and smoke in the humid summer air. Fuu tried and failed not to smile as she remembered her crafty trick to save them from certain death, owing her their lives in exchange. They would thank her eventually—if they didn’t kill each other first, of course.

The light which coated the world around her, resting on the trees towering above them and spreading over the dusty ground beneath their feet, was a rich golden warmth that seeped into her skin as she ran. It filtered down through the forest where they took cover from the officials who chased them, highlighting paths for the trio to slip along until they found a place to rest and hide.

It wasn’t until the night grew dark that Fuu realized the sunset had been the exact color of the petals on a fully bloomed sunflower.


	2. Chapter 2

Keeping up with boys was never-ending work. When Fuu had recruited her bodyguards, the last thing she would have ever guessed she’d have to do was babysit them. They could break someone’s fingers or slice through a body without so much as a blink, but when it came to finding food or staying out of trouble, they were absolutely clueless. 

Jin, Fuu admitted, was a bit better at handling himself than his male counterpart. Jin was calm, composed, and innately poised. Like Fuu, he had little patience for Mugen’s antics and tendency to provoke anyone for some roughhousing. He seemed far more mature and reliable, and he usually didn’t draw his sword unless necessary. For this, Fuu was grateful, and even admired those qualities about him.

Mugen, on the other hand, was a gigantic pain to deal with. They’d only been traveling together for a week, and already they had been chased out of several places because of Mugen’s disruptive threats over the tiniest things. Not only that, he’d stolen food from markets and food stands, causing a huge fuss they all had to work off by washing dishes or unpacking deliveries for the day. And, of course, he went out of his way to flirt and joke dirtily with every woman in sight, especially if she was with another man— _that_ never ended well.

It was insanely frustrating. If Mugen couldn’t control himself, they’d never make it to...well, Fuu wasn’t sure about the exact location yet, but she knew they wouldn’t make it far.

She wasn’t surprised to learn after the one-armed man’s assassination attempt that Mugen had nearly been fatally poisoned by a woman who seduced him. _Serves him right_ , Fuu thought to herself as they trudged toward the next town, hungry and tired. She wouldn’t let herself envision the crazed man who had been strangled before her, or grieve the sad giant who died right before her eyes. There wasn’t enough energy to do that. Momentarily, she wished she were back at the teahouse, sneaking a dumpling here and there and getting a gentle scolding from her boss. She missed the security of that life, the knowledge that she wouldn’t have to watch bloody fights or people being killed.

But, she reasoned, she’d gotten this far. If she wanted to look for a samurai, then she would have to deal with a lot of other sword-carriers along the way. Even if they were grating on her nerves, she was glad she had Jin and Mugen with her to get through any rough patches along the way.

She looked up from her moving feet to find them bickering—mostly Mugen, of course; Jin was so quiet—and drawing their swords. Fuu panicked slightly before seeing them nearly instantly give up, their backs sagging with exhaustion. They had to be as starving as she was.

“I can’t believe you two are wasting energy on fighting when we haven’t eaten in days,” Fuu remarked, watching them trudge down the path. “We still have no idea where to find the samurai who smells of sunflowers, and we have no money, no food, no place to sleep, no thanks to Mugen…”

Mugen’s tired grumbling and Jin’s disgruntled expression went unnoticed by Fuu, as the two were walking a good distance in front of her. She felt heat and light blaze over her exposed skin, her kimono sticking to her body uncomfortably. She missed feeling clean. She wanted a cool bath more than anything.

“I mean, we should be able to find work somewhere, right? We’re all young and capable, and you guys owe me anyway.” Lost in her own thoughts, murky and unfiltered from fatigue, she continued, “And I’m sure all of this sun and no sleep is going to age me prema—wait, what are you guys doing?”

The two of them were huddled together at the fork in the road, conspiring like two buddies at a sake house trying to pick up chicks. Mugen smirked at her from the arm he draped across Jin’s shoulders.

“You’re right,” he drawled, “you are capable. Got a pretty good head on your shoulders, don’tcha?”

Confused, Fuu responded with a furrowed brow. “What do you mean?”

Mugen looked at Jin, eyes drooping in satisfaction. “You’re somethin’ else, really. You’ll do just fine on your own. Right, Jin?”

“Yup,” Jin replied, voice flat.

Fuu was strangely flattered, but still unsure of what was going on. “What brought all of this on?” she asked, an uncomfortable laugh in her voice.

“Look,” Mugen said, dropping his arm and stepping away from Jin, but not before exchanging a mischievous glance with him. “All I gotta say is...see ya, girly.”

Before Fuu could say anything else, the two of them dashed away, one on each path from the fork in the road. She wailed in exasperation, her body sore and exhausted but her mind sharp with a fresh wave of anger. 

“You _cannot_ be serious!” she yelled, fists balling at her sides. After moping and pacing for a moment, wondering if she should just turn back and go home, she set out on the path Jin had taken and hoped it led to food and water. Her decision had been made mostly to spite Mugen, convinced it was his idea to split up everyone. He always had to make everything complicated, didn’t he?

 _Well,_ Fuu thought to herself, _at least I don’t have to babysit those two jerks anymore._ She couldn’t wait to see how long they lasted without her.

— 

If Fuu had been furious before, it was nothing compared to this. She was positively irate. Even her bones shook with the force of her anger. None of this would have happened if the two guys hadn’t run off without her, and now here she was, trapped in a _brothel,_ of all places!

She was mad, yes, but more than anything, she was hurt. Scared, especially. This was the exact opposite of how she had wanted this whole journey to go, and now she was imprisoned in this hell of a place. Unlike these other girls, Fuu would not resign to this fate. There had to be a way out, even if Mugen or Jin would never find her here.

A small voice in her head encouraged her not to give up hope; that maybe by following Jin they ended up in the same place, or that Mugen’s filthy habits would bring him looking for a woman.

And just like that, they ended up before her, battling again while she yelled at them about remembering their promise to her. Clearly, this was going to become a routine. 

When everything turned to chaos, the two of them left her behind. It was all Fuu could do not to cry, and she didn’t after all. She decided to stop hoping for their aid in her escape, knowing it would ultimately be up to her, since all they were concerned with was fighting and their stupid little death matches. Opening her eyes and ears to discover a way out, she made her way to her quarters with Osuzu, staying hopeful that this would all be over soon. 

Maybe Osuzu just wanted to honor her father, or maybe she didn’t have the strength to get out of this place, but Fuu did. Even if Mugen and Jin didn’t care about her or her ultimate goal, Fuu cared enough to find a way.

_Families sure can be a pain, huh?_

—

When all was said and done, and the drama they’d somehow all been involved in was finished, Fuu and Jin said goodbye to Osuzu and Sousuke. Mugen was somewhere else, taking care of unfinished business, and would catch up later.

Though having choices in her life had already brought her a great deal of problems, they’d been solved one way or another. She couldn’t imagine having a life like Osuzu, restricted as she was by her family’s lifestyle. She wished for her the strength to pursue a life of her own. Fuu also hoped that Jin had taught the boy some lessons in self-defense, as well as in being a good man. With a bit of a heavy heart, Fuu parted ways with the twosome and started off again, catching up with her bodyguard.

She wondered if Jin had ever loved someone like Sousuke clearly loved Osuzu. As stoic and still as he was, there had to be a lot hiding under his composure to help someone like Sousuke. 

_Still waters run deep._ Fuu recalled this phrase from her childhood, something her mother used to say. She wondered if her father was anything like Jin—a silent, patient man and a sleek, skilled ronin. The mild green scent of sunflowers suddenly bloomed in her mind.

“Jin,” Fuu began, looking at her feet as she spoke.

“Mm,” he acknowledged. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Embarrassed by the question, Fuu kept her gaze on the ground, but after a moment of no response she glanced up to see Jin’s usual straight face.

“No.”

She was dying to know more, suddenly craving more details about him. He was always so distant, while Fuu was easy and honest. However, she didn’t push. She was still kind of angry with him and Mugen for always leaving her in danger, despite the fact that they were with her only to complete _her_ mission.

The two walked in silence for a short while more before Jin spoke, his voice low and clear.

“Do you have any details to give us about the samurai you’re searching for?” He looked toward Fuu this time, which made her stare at her feet again. Open as she was, she wasn’t ready to tell either of them quite yet.

“It’s…” She sighed softly, tucking a lock of clean hair behind her ear. Luckily, she’d been able to bathe during her temporary job at the brothel, perhaps the only upside to the last few days. “I only remember what I’ve already told you.”

Thankfully, Jin didn’t pry either. Fuu was starting to think he was more perceptible than she gave him credit for.

“We will help you find him,” he told her in a firm voice. 

Fuu almost wanted to laugh at his solemn promise, but instead felt a bubble of irritation rise up her throat. She stopped walking altogether, hands curling into fists at her sides.

“If you and that idiot Mugen wanted to help me so badly, then why don’t you ever come and find me when I’m in trouble?” 

Fuu hardly realized she was yelling until Jin’s brows raised, slightly shocked, behind his glasses. However, this didn’t stop her from continuing. 

“All you two ever care about is doing what you want and trying to kill each other! First with that insane guy Mugen amputated and his big ogre bodyguard—Mugen was just looking for a fight, that poor man didn’t have to _die_ —and now this time with these yakuza people—we could have already made it to the next town by now if you two had just gotten me out the first time!”

Jin just stared at her for a moment while she caught her breath, his eyebrows still raised, before his expression settled into a less shocked one, mouth set in a straight line.

“This situation is more difficult to explain,” he said after a moment. “And you saw the outcome. None of us were in true mortal danger, I believe, and it seems you handled yourself very well.” 

He began walking forward, his posture upright and movements as fluid as usual. Fuu begrudgingly followed, keeping pace with him within seconds. Nothing in his demeanor was condescending, but she felt smaller nonetheless.

“The other situation,” Jin continued, “could have ended much more quickly, and with all of us injured or dead. I remember you said Ryujiro knocked you unconscious, as well as threatened your life.”

Fuu nodded in confirmation, not wanting to remember the details of that night.

“His bodyguard, as you mentioned, didn’t hurt you. However, he was killed because he was a threat to everyone else—and Mugen was not aware of how he spared you.”

“How do you know this?” Fuu asked, her voice full of doubt. Were they having conversations about her without her knowing? Her curiosity piqued once again.

“He told me, in less...appropriate terms, when I asked about the situation. I was hoping the threat was over.” Jin’s eyes were closed as he spoke, his tone as even as ever. 

“Oh.” She really couldn’t imagine Mugen confessing any faults, especially not to Jin.

“You’re wrong about no one trying to save you that night,” said Jin, his gaze now straight ahead of him, toward the road. “I was engaged with a samurai involved in the plot, so I was unaware that you’d been taken. Mugen set off to find you when he found out you were in danger.”

Involuntarily, Fuu whipped around to face Jin with a horrified expression. “No way,” she immediately protested. “No way! He was with that woman! He didn’t even notice I was there when he finally showed up. There’s no way that jerk would do anything for anyone besides himself.” She shook her head as if the thought were an insect stuck in her hair. 

Jin’s eyes, open now, seemed slightly amused, though his face was calm. “He was with the woman, unfortunately. However, even though she poisoned him, he immediately went to search for you when she relayed that you’d been captured.”

Fuu’s head continued to shake in astonishment. “I just...I just don’t believe it.” After all he’d put them through since then, especially what he’d done to her by running off, it was almost impossible for her to wrap her head around. He was so self-seeking, so impulsive, there was just no way…

“As you know,” Jin started after a minute or two, moving forward again, “I wasn’t the only one who promised to help—”

“Where do you bastards think you’re goin’ without me?” Mugen shouted from far behind them, his mouth stretched into a wolfish grin as he trotted toward them. A hot flush of chagrin washed over Fuu’s face, humiliated by her earlier outburst and from wondering if he’d really been looking out for her. 

The thought of Jin and Mugen actually fulfilling their promises to her made her heart beat just a little faster with the possibility. She’d have to wait and see if they really did, of course, but she allowed herself the optimism, a reward for surviving the hectic past few days. Perhaps her thought of those two boys as her family would be true after all.

Fuu saw the corners of Jin’s mouth raise ever so imperceptibly as he noticed her changing expressions. He continued walking, apparently indifferent to Mugen’s arrival. 

Jovially, Mugen flicked them both on the back of their heads before pushing his way to the front of the trio, mumbling something about food. He stretched his arms over his head, then bent them and wove his hands together behind his head, the essence of proud and easygoing. Fuu noticed some blood on his arm, a shock of red against his tan skin, but didn’t bother to guess what—or whom—it was from. She didn’t want to assume the worst of him, either. 

From that point on, it would be a little bit harder for her to assume anything about him at all.


	3. Chapter 3

After traveling and living with two boys, Fuu found herself growing slightly restless. Why, she wasn’t sure. It was close to impossible to keep up with all the ridiculous situations the three of them found themselves in anyway. It seemed strange to her that she could still find the time or the mental resolve to feel this way in the first place, especially given how unpredictable her life had become.

Already, though, she was unbelievably tired of the cycle of events she and the two guys had fallen into week after week. Hit a new town, scrounge up some change over a few days—usually in some weird way by Jin, through an odd job by herself, or in the standard violent and intimidating ways of Mugen—then eat as much as they could buy before continuing on. Usually, Mugen dragged Jin along to find some boozy, voluptuous women to try and spend the night with, which irritated her to no end. She couldn’t place her finger on why—maybe it was because she never knew whether they’d been hurt or not—but wasn’t she enough of a female presence for them? Really, it was getting old. 

Though they ran into trouble at nearly every turn, there was nothing new or exciting for Fuu— until they hit the coast, at least.

Once the trio had reached the bay town, the air itself seemed to change. There was a cool breeze that moved like fingers through her hair and tickled her skin where her robes fluttered against it. Fuu felt as though she were buzzing with life, effervescent and light from deep within herself. She felt inexplicably new and fresh, and there was a feeling she wasn’t quite sure what to name coursing through her blood—a feeling which grew exponentially when she met Hishikawa Moronobu. 

In all the time she had spent around men in her life—serving them, working for them, looking after them, and whatever else—Fuu had never met one so enchanting.

Hishikawa was beautiful, feminine in a way that somehow made him more appealing. His voice was smooth as the rocks by the water, fluid and enticing. Even better, he offered to buy her food, and even obliged to pay for Mugen and Jin (who were scolded for having no manners, of course). It was the most she’d eaten and the happiest she’d been since she could remember. It was all in pure, innocent fun, at least for Fuu.

They spent the whole day together walking leisurely around town, window-shopping, and talking about culture and philosophy. Fuu was thrilled to finally have a meaningful conversation with someone who not only listened, but had as much to say as she did. Hishikawa had a passionate desire to go abroad and be recognized for his art throughout the world. A lofty dream, Fuu had to admit, but when she saw the gentle, loving way he eyed artwork in the shops they visited, she simply smiled and tried to see each picture through his eyes.

The day was a bright swirl of blues and greens, of silver leaf and woodblocks and briny sea air. The sky was a grayed shade of light blue, the thin clouds sweeping across it like the feathers of a bird’s wing, and the pale sun glinted off the water by the shops where they walked, shimmering like the scales of an exotic fish. The effect was breathtakingly lovely, almost blindingly so, brandishing itself into the back of Fuu’s eyelids and imprinting itself on her mind. 

This was the first time she could ever remember being on the coast, feeling as though everything were infinite and could expand for ceaseless distances. For once, she felt outside of herself, so distant from her own life. The wind seemed to carry away her worries about money, food, sleep, the end of her journey and if they would ever reach it. Fuu’s face relaxed into a tranquil, bright-eyed smile for the whole afternoon, which, unbeknownst to her, thoroughly intrigued Hishikawa. He decided to show her his own art, aware of what taking her to his employer’s shop implied, yet risking the danger for the sake of fascination with his new muse.

Most of the shops which lined the road facing the fishing boats were open-air, lending a breezy, cool atmosphere within each space. In the art shop where Hishikawa’s works were displayed, the two of them were able to relax for a moment after all their walking and conversation. The air was filled with the scent of colored ink and parchment, the heady saltiness of the coastal breeze stiffening the paper which housed his paintings. He pointed his companion toward pieces which exhibited other female muses, the inky black of their hair and blood-red lips a delightfully shocking contrast to their pale complexions. 

Wondering if Fuu would be willing to try her hand at modeling for one of his more erotic pieces, he turned to see her reaction to his artwork. Within seconds, however, he noticed that Fuu had hardly registered his paintings with human subjects. Instead, she was transfixed by ones across the room—the hypnotic, flowing lines of the koi fish he’d painted, the warmth of the moonlight beaming onto night-shaded leaves, and the silken petals of flowers flowing invitingly from their stems housed in rich jade vases. 

She was going to tell him, slightly breathless with emotion, that these were the most beautiful things she’d ever laid eyes on. Her mouth was even slightly open, lips poised to shape the words. When she looked up at a painting she’d not yet noticed, though, she was suddenly reminded of exactly who and where she was, and what she was doing there. It all rushed back to her with stunning force.

Above her, where she had to stand back just slightly to accommodate her short stature, was a painting of tall, brilliantly rendered sunflowers, their petals so golden yellow she felt compelled to reach out and touch to see if they were real. The illustration was so vivid that she almost expected to see a faint silhouette of her father standing behind them. Tears found their way to her eyes of their own accord, blurring her vision and blending the image into a haze of muddled greens and oranges. 

But then, Hishikawa placed a delicate hand on her shoulder and expressed his joy at her captivation with his underappreciated pieces of scenery. The energy he emitted, ebullient and glimmering, was enough to relieve her of her memories. Since she was grateful for the distraction, she decided she would do anything he asked, so long as she could hold on to this atmosphere he exuded and let it surround her too.

— 

Later, in Hishikawa’s art studio, that new sensation from earlier in the day returned and stretched throughout her, reaching the ends of every limb and digit as she posed for him. Her heart pulsed a deep, warm thrum as she sat still, shorter pieces of her hair draped over her bared shoulder. The slight movement of it against her skin, the soft candlelight surrounding her, the artist’s soft eyes on her face and neck—the sensation of it all made her skin break out in goosebumps. As self-conscious as she was then, she felt gorgeous. 

Rather than just a girl, she felt, for the first time, like a woman.

Intimacy was an experience she had never known. The type of things Mugen searched for when they came into a bit of money—usually never enough to get him very far, knowing his penchant for trouble—were not really what Fuu had in mind when she envisioned abstract concepts like lust and sex. 

While she didn’t think Hishikawa was interested in her quite in this way—more as a muse than anything, she figured—she wondered why he loved painting women’s bodies as he did. His style was anything but crude, rough, or violently sexual, as so many men could be, but rather it was appreciative, celebrating the true beauty of each form. 

The women in his paintings seemed liberated in some way, Fuu thought—as though they weren’t being restrained or forced by anyone else. As though they owned themselves. They were so unlike many of the women she had encountered since she’d left the remains of the tea shop. So unlike Osuzu and the brothel women she’d nearly been stuck with, selling their poor souls to the lecherous men who would buy them. The women Hishikawa illustrated had some subtle sense of strength in the feminine slopes of their shoulders, a hint of pride in the upward tilt of their delicate faces. It was this quality of his work that made each so particularly lovely. 

She realized what she’d been feeling since she and the guys arrived in this town, what drew her to Hishikawa, and what had made her proud to tell Mugen, when he’d accused her new friend of being a “panty chaser,” that she had chosen to model for the artist.

It was the feeling of empowerment and freedom. For the first time she could remember, today Fuu had been more liberated than she ever had. She didn’t feel obligated to take care of anyone and had made her own decisions. It was a wonderful feeling that inspired her, though somewhat embarrassed, to consent to Hishikawa’s wish for her to expose her body.

There wasn’t any harm in it, as far as she could see. A surge of agency rushed through her as she dropped her robes down to her hips, the embarrassment long gone. She couldn’t wait to see how the painting turned out, to be immortalized so magnificently by her new friend.

“Okay,” Hishikawa breathed after a while, the smooth sound of brush strokes on paper ceasing. 

Excitedly, Fuu threw her kimono back over her shoulders, shuffling over toward him to get a peek. “Are you finished? Can I see?” She bounced on her feet as she stood next to him, looking over his shoulder to try and see how he saw her.

Instead of showing her his completed piece, he sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Fuu.”

Without thinking, she touched his shoulder comfortingly. “What’s wrong? It can’t be that bad. You’re a fantastic artist.” 

Before he could answer, the door slid open fast, the sound of wood against wood cracking in the quiet room. Several men gathered in the doorway, their faces menacing and dark. After that, everything was dark.

Funny how full of contrasts life could be. Freer than ever one moment, and tied up and held captive in a barrel the next. Beautiful, strong, and grown-up, then immediately powerless and terrified. Bliss and trust in Hishikawa morphed into furious mortification and hurt when she realized what had happened. 

When he’d come to recover her, instead of running, she’d stayed and tried to smack some sense into him, rather literally. The slap was less about being trapped and more about how he’d betrayed her, especially after the best day she had experienced in the longest time. It was difficult for Fuu to have such a genuine, open heart, only to let in people who took advantage of her faith in them. It hurt to know that he’d given such a sense of peace to other girls, too, only to strip it away and have them sent off to a life in hell. How horribly it must have pained them, especially since they hadn’t been able to escape as she had. The tears flowed from her eyes all too easily when he whispered an apology to her. 

_Don’t disappoint me,_ she’d told Hishikawa, tears still slipping out of her eyes, though the words were meant more for herself. Her expectation of him had been so, so different from the reality. So many people were turning out to be worse than she’d hoped. 

It seemed to her, unfortunately, that all she ever did was hope.

—

Thankfully, Fuu didn’t have to hope for long. When the top of her barrel thumped under the weight of feet, the boat she’d been carried onto sloshing around in the water of the river, her heart swelled with relief. She knew exactly who had come to get her.

After being yanked off the boat and toted into town like a dead animal, the creepy thug holding her sprinted back to the art shop from the day before. The whole time he ran, Fuu could hear the quick clacking of Mugen’s sandals on the road, coming up fast behind the one who carried her. He was oddly quiet, focused, slicing through the air with an unusually composed hand—until they entered the shop, of course, where he began cursing loudly and chopping shoji doors in half.

Dizzy and desperate as she was to be untied and able to speak, she was hypnotized by the way Mugen moved while he attacked. His acrobatic flips, propelled by his long limbs, were a streamlined whirl of tan skin and blue tattoo ink. He was as swift as a whip, rolling on his back with legs swinging like the blades of a windmill, kicking his opponent through the other wall. 

Though his trademark ferocity was still present, there was an effortless ease to his motions that took Fuu by surprise. It was clear to her that he knew exactly what he was after. The fact that it involved saving her life, again, let her temporarily forgive him for going after the guy before untying her, though it didn’t stop her from trying to do so herself.

When the art shop had been taken down by officials, the policeman left Fuu in the same state in which he’d found her. She craned her neck to see men carrying off the shop’s staff, as well as Jin speaking with the old man who owned it. When she heard footsteps approaching, she rolled over to see Mugen stepping toward her, sword slung over his shoulder and grinning smugly.

“Told you he was a panty chaser,” he drawled, nodding his head toward her wrists tied behind her back. “Looks like he’s into some pretty kinky shit, too.”

His smirk only grew as she narrowed her eyes at him, still unable to speak clearly through the cloth over her mouth. She wiggled around, trying to signal him to cut her loose, then watched as he bent down by her, his mouth curved into a lewd smile.

“Whoa now, don’t get too excited,” he teased, carefully but swiftly nudging the blade of his sword between her wrists and ankles, freeing them in two short movements. “I’m a lot rougher than you’re used to. Plus, you’re flat as a board. Not really my type.” 

After sheathing his sword, Mugen looped a finger into the space between the fabric and Fuu’s cheek, which was now a heated pink at his comments, and tugged to undo the knot. As it fell to the ground, Fuu puffed up her cheeks and glared at him. 

“You’re rude, and gross,” she mumbled, fixing her messy hair and rising to sit on her knees. “And he’s _not_ a panty chaser. He just...” Mugen raised a skeptical brow at her. “He just needed to make money.” 

At hearing Mugen’s tongue click in disapproval, she blushed again at her lame excuse. Mugen did some shady things to make money, too, but it wasn’t the same. She was upset with Hishikawa and the bruise he’d left on her heart, lavender and soft like the trim on his expensive robes. She was more ashamed, though, that she had trusted him, especially after Mugen’s casual voicing of his suspicions the day before. Instantly, she became defensive, turning her nose up and away from him while feigning condescension.

“And besides, you’re the one bullying people and beating them up for money. You better get a real job next time or else we’ll be sleeping in a jail cell.” She patted her clip to guess at whether her hair was back to normal after sleeping in a barrel all night, turning to leer at him again. Instead, much to her chagrin, Mugen picked her up, his hands gripping her slender waist before slinging her over his shoulder and chuckling under his breath when she protested.

“Put me down, you idiot!” Her fists banged at his back, hard and solid under her hits, as blood rushed to her head and pounded in her throat. Mugen laughed huskily, his voice loud and impish.

“Pipe down, dumbass. I think there’s still a barrel we can ship you out in if we hurry.” His hand, most likely intentionally, clapped her just a few inches above her backside. Fuu yelped before launching into a series of mumbled curses. 

When he set her down by Jin, who now held a pouch full of money, they both dropped the conversation, instantly distracted by the thought of buying some food.

—

As the three set out toward the next town that evening, stomachs full of grilled squid and cool water, Fuu found herself smiling again. The sea air surrounded her completely, sticking to the skin of her neck and blowing through her hair as the boat moved across the water. The pleasant atmosphere of the previous day returned, even after what Hishikawa had put her through. Maybe it wasn’t affecting her as strongly then because he’d revealed his drawing of her, showing that he’d drawn her not only surrounded by sunflowers, but also with a voluptuous figure. _At least someone thinks I have curves,_ she thought with a private smile.

She rested her head in her hand, leaning on the side of the boat, and looked at Jin, who seemed to be asleep where he sat. Her gaze then landed on Mugen, who was flipping through the pornographic book he’d probably stolen with a strangely serious expression, occasionally turning a bit disgusted before he would grin salaciously. Fuu resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead smiling a bit wider at her musings. 

How could this Mugen be the same one who fought with such determination and unbridled strength, the same one who had now saved her life twice? After the events of the day, it was easy to believe what Jin had told her about their mutual companion. It felt strange that Mugen, rather than calm and reliable Jin, was the one constantly getting her out of trouble she was unable to get out of herself. 

Her newfound, though hesitant, trust in Mugen lightened her formerly dampened spirits. She decided to follow Jin’s example and got lost in the sound of the gentle waves around them, lulling her into a delightfully peaceful sleep. She dreamed that they were being carried by the sea, forever floating in its infinite embrace, without a single care or worry in the world.


	4. Chapter 4

_Homesick_ wasn’t really a word Fuu had the luxury of using. Her mother had already died, her father was...well, she was looking for him, but knew everything was different now, and any semblance she’d had of a place to come back to had burned to the ground. She could hardly recall details of her childhood now; the further they traveled, the less she could remember any details about her old life, the details so distant and faded. It wasn’t all bad, really—her lack of a home was the ultimatum she had needed to begin her search in the first place, and she, for the first time in years, had a true sense of purpose to guide her along the way.

Sometimes, however, she craved a sense of home. There were days and nights when Fuu felt a hollow pang of longing in her stomach, beneath the hunger and irritation and joy that seemed to constantly reside there, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Along the path to Nagasaki, she and her two bodyguards had witnessed so many different kinds of relationships. There seemed to be countless people willing to fight for or sacrifice themselves for their families, for their loved ones, for those things they held dearest...it was difficult for Fuu not to wonder about her own life.

Were there people who would die to make sure she was safe? Were there people who would fight tooth and nail to protect her? Were there people who loved her, or looked at her as a reason to keep moving, keep fighting, keep living? Fuu’s mother may have felt this way, but her spirit had left the world in a swirl of leaves and wind, so easily, like petals falling from their trees as the seasons changed. 

Whenever Fuu would settle in to sleep for the night with Jin and Mugen only a few feet away, she couldn’t help but think that this was the constant she craved. It was the least temporary structure she’d known since her father left, and that alone was enough to lull her to sleep every night, her hand clutching the fabric at her chest as though her heart would physically swell.

It made no difference whether they were resting by the dying embers of a fire by the river, or lying in an abandoned shack far from the path, or safely enclosed in a hotel room with thin beds to cushion their bodies against the solid bamboo floors. It wasn’t important if they were hiding or hungry, or if they were enjoying a peaceful night after resolving a tricky situation. It didn’t matter if Jin slept sitting upright, his back rigid against a door or tree and breath steady enough to wake at a moment’s notice, or if Mugen snored loudly enough to wake every animal for miles, his shirt riding up past the rise and fall of his bare stomach and his legs splayed out in nearly unnatural positions. 

They were there with her, for better or for worse, and that was enough. 

It was enough, for now.


	5. Chapter 5

“Fuu-chan!” the shop owner, up to his elbows in soba orders, called from the back of the house. It was an unseasonably warm day, and the room full of customers was becoming stuffy from a combination of steam inside, humidity outside, and the body heat of too many people in one space. The wraps beneath Fuu’s kimono were becoming oppressive as she dashed around the room tending to the constant flow of orders.

“Coming!” she shouted back, her girlish voice not carrying too far in the thick air, the room loud with the many boisterous conversations around her. It was a wonder people were crowding in here for hot food when it was already so hot outside. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face, falling onto the collar of her kimono once it made its way past her chin. She could taste the heat. _Too hot._

Once she had managed to weave through the crowd, Fuu looked through the window to the kitchen and saw the owner looking at her expectantly, filling chipped blue-and-white bowls full of steaming tsuyu broth and rapidly slicing scallions. She would normally have been starving just looking at his handiwork, but she was too sweaty and exhausted to care.

“I have three more kakesoba and two of the tensoba ready, but I need you to hurry because I have four more coming up and don’t have much room back here.” He offered her an apologetic smile as he placed the bowls on her tray. Fuu grabbed a few of the teacups from the shelf beside the doorway to fill after she dropped off her orders. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder, though it was mostly futile. She was a little out of breath at that point, which made her voice ever quieter. _Don’t pass out. Don’t trip. Don’t spill anything. Don’t pass out._

When she returned to the kitchen with an empty tray after dodging some huge men, rowdy because they’d been day-drinking sake since the shop opened, she almost had to grip the counter to keep from falling. Her hair was stuck to the back of her neck and her temples. 

“Fuu-chan,” the shop owner said with concern, setting more tensoba on the tray in front of him. “If you can get through the next round of orders, we’ll probably be finished with the lunch rush, and I’ll let you go home for the day. You don’t look well.”

 _I need the money though,_ she wanted to say, but barely had the energy to argue. “Are you sure? I…”

He smiled and gently pushed the tray toward her. “Go ahead and finish up. I’ll get my wife to help you out once she’s done making the tororo.”

She returned his smile, her flushed face now bright and grateful. “Thank you, Kentaro-san.” With that, she had a new (though slight) burst of energy, and used it to carry out the rest of her shift. Fuu did well when she had a motivating factor, especially if it involved getting some much-needed rest.

— 

The trio had only been in this town for a few days, but weren’t planning to leave until they had enough money to make it to the outskirts of Nagasaki with extra cash for emergency food or lodging. The further south they went, the warmer the weather became, and it was slowing them down—Fuu especially, as she wasn’t used to constant physical activity as much as the guys were. 

Their slightly slower rate of traveling garnered no complaints, however. Mugen seemed more than excited to have time for some of his… _hobbies,_ whatever that entailed, and Jin spent the days taking odd jobs and practicing with a relatively friendly local swordsman to pass the time. Fuu had found a job in a food shop, which she usually preferred, but it just so happened to be the most popular restaurant in the entire town. She knew it was because Kentaro, the owner, and his wife Harumi not only made the best hot soba in this prefecture, but they were also some of the nicest people she’d ever met. It made the strain of the one-woman waitressing gig a lot less tough.

Fuu sat on an overturned crate outside the back of the shop and leaned against the wooden wall, inhaling slow, deep breaths of moist air. Thankfully, her miserable shift was finally over, but she was too tired to walk back to her room across town just yet. It was still hot outside, but it was much cooler out in the open compared to the inside of the restaurant. She contemplated pulling her kimono loose to expel the heat trapped around her chest, but stopped herself when she heard the unmistakable sound of sandals clicking toward her.

She turned to find Harumi walking through the back doorway of the restaurant, two bowls in her hands and a kind smile on her tanned face. 

“Here you go,” said Harumi, handing Fuu a bowl. It was full of water and some delicate shiso leaves, beautifully green against the cool white porcelain. She chuckled as the younger girl’s eyes grew wide and her mouth curved into a wide grin. “You must be quite tired, I’m sure.”

“Thank you so much, Harumi-san!” Fuu nearly sang, restraining herself from pouring it over her head or gulping it at the speed of light. Instead, she sipped it politely, relishing the sweet, refreshing taste as it washed down her throat and humming giddily. Harumi chuckled again.

“My pleasure.” The woman sat down beside Fuu and lightly brushed some damp hair away from the girl’s forehead. The action had a motherly nature Fuu welcomed and needed, whether she knew it or not. Though Harumi wasn’t too much older than Fuu, she had an innate sense of nurturing and compassion that came with maturity. “So, have you decided how long you’ll stay in town?”

Fuu shook her head, staring at the leaves floating in the bowl before glancing up at Harumi. “I’m not sure. My friends need to earn more money before we can keep traveling, so it could be another couple of weeks or so before we’re all ready.” She paused, her mouth bunching to one side in a doleful apology. “I hope I’m not inconveniencing you by leaving so soon. You are Kentaro-san have been so kind to me already, and you’re both so busy...”

Harumi patted Fuu’s back reassuringly, hopefully ignoring the patches of sweaty fabric. “We’ve managed up until now, haven’t we?” The skin around her eyes crinkled good-naturedly. “We appreciate your help, but I understood when you asked for the job that it would only be temporary. Don’t worry.”

Fuu nodded and took another sip, delighted the drink was finally cooling her down some. “I’m really grateful I met you and your husband. Traveling can get kind of...hectic, sometimes, so it’s nice to have a little peace of mind.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Her eyes were friendly as she spoke. Harumi was so easy to be around. Fuu would miss her when she and the guys had to move on.

“So,” Harumi began after a moment of pleasant quiet, her tone conversational, “I’ll admit I’ve been a little curious about you, Fuu-chan.”

Fuu would have been nervous after the woman’s statement, considering her experiences thus far, but could tell Harumi was just being amiable. The girl giggled softly despite herself. “What do you want to know?”

“Well,” the woman continued, switching Fuu’s empty bowl for the full one in her other hand, “I’ve been wondering, what is a sweet girl like you doing traveling with those swordsmen?”

A few drinks of water gave Fuu time to contemplate her answer before voicing it. Though she trusted Harumi, she had learned to be careful when giving out certain information. “They’re...helping me return to my family. I live in Nagasaki,” she offered, hoping her boss would buy it. 

“Ah,” said the woman thoughtfully. “They seem...hmm. _Interesting_ isn’t the right word.” A calm laugh escaped her mouth. “They’re unusually handsome for men of their profession, you know.” She bumped her shoulder with Fuu’s teasingly, repressing another laugh as a pink flush spread over the girl’s face.

“I—I wouldn’t know! Mugen is such a pervert, and a loudmouth, and Jin is so…” Fuu felt her face get hot and took a large gulp of shiso water to temper it. “He’s...he has too much pride in himself.”

Harumi grinned knowingly. “Jin’s the one you like, then? I always liked the stoic, quiet types, too. Mugen seems like a lot of fun though.” When she winked, Fuu nearly choked on her drink. 

“No, no, it’s not like that at all!” The girl laughed anxiously, frantically waving a hand in front of herself. “We’re all just good friends, really.”

“If you say so…” When Fuu began to take a defensive stance, her shoulders tightening and her face turning red, Harumi put a hand on her shoulder and laughed deeply. “Fuu-chan, I’m just teasing you!” The girl visibly relaxed. “I should warn you, though, you are the object of a _lot_ of jealousy among the other girls in this town. The other swordsmen and young men here are a bit worse for wear, so your friends easily stand out.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I can handle them.” Fuu removed her pink lacquered knife case from the inside of her kimono, tossing it in the air and promptly catching it. “I’ve dealt with worse before.” Casually, she sipped the rest of her water, beyond grateful that it seemed to evaporate the heat around her.

“I can imagine, with those two in tow.” Harumi stood, collecting the now-empty bowl from Fuu. “Anyhow, I just thought I'd let you know. You may have another part-time job on your hands.”

“I feel like I do already, making sure we have enough food and a place to sleep every night,” she replied in a light tone, brushing her bangs back from her face with her fingers. “It’s tough work, but someone’s gotta do it.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” said Harumi with much sincerity, “and you’re lucky to have them. But you work too hard, I think. Take your afternoon off to do something for yourself. You know, have a little fun. Be young. Relax.”

“I’ll try.” When she smiled graciously, Harumi patted her shoulder again before heading back inside and leaving Fuu to herself. A mild wind swept across the back of the shop, fresh and cool on the sweat-dampened hair at nape of her neck. She grinned widely at the feeling, suddenly realizing exactly how she would spend her afternoon. A long bath wouldn’t fit most people’s criteria for having fun and being young, but it certainly fit the bill for relaxing. 

— 

Light filtered through the gaps between the wooden boards of the bath chamber, casting a golden glow over the tiny ripples of water where Fuu sat with her neck rolling lazily back and forth against the edge of the tub. Her feet hung over the edge across from her, the droplets on her white skin glinting and slowly evaporating as they soaked up the warmth of the early evening’s air. She felt her fingers and toes pruning as the water grew less and less lukewarm, but could hardly bring herself to care. It had been a long time since she’d been able to completely clear her mind of everything and enjoy the sensation of a blank mind. 

After a while, though, her mind drifted back to reality, sifting through the seemingly endless day. She recalled her conversation with Harumi, remembering the bit about Jin and Mugen. She was right to be embarrassed, of course—there was no way she would ever find them attractive or worthy of her, like Shinsuke could have been. Though she swiftly brushed that thought away, the rest still lingered in her mind, poking at her enticingly like a stranger with candy. 

Okay, they were pretty good-looking, those two brutes. It was hard to deny. She was human after all, and a slightly hormonal teenaged girl to boot. The way women looked at them, hungry and thoroughly intrigued, was easy to understand. They were mysterious and intimidating—the first of which Fuu admitted was still true, even after months of traveling together. Jin rarely ever showed mutual interest in the women who pined after him, but Mugen usually took them up on their silent offers, so casually it was nearly second nature.

She thought about the way Hishikawa had made her feel so free and desirable, and pondered whether someone like Mugen was even capable of coming close to that. Harumi said he seemed like “a lot of fun,” but tender and sweet he did not. He was so rough and crude, there was no way he could be passionate and romantic, she was sure. The thought was almost laughable.

Jin, on the other hand, had the potential to be the intense, all-consuming romantic hero most girls could only dream of. Gentlemen were few and far between these days, and he was a polar opposite to Mugen. Fuu often wondered, with no small amount of mortification, if he abstained from nightly activities because he had someone he loved. He’d told her he had never been in love, and had proven himself to be extremely honest, but was also very private. It only made her more curious in the end. 

He was beautiful, silky midnight hair against lily-white skin, and so graceful and strong. When he fought, his body moved like water, fluid and silent. It was mesmerizing to watch. One night, when he had stripped to his wraps for a bath in a hot spring, she’d caught a glimpse of his naked torso, ghostly pale in the soft moonlight, and had to stop herself from making a scene in reaction. He was lean with hard lines of muscle beneath the skin, and his back was exquisitely defined. With his hair down and forming dark, sharp lines against his strangely unblemished skin, there was an almost androgynous quality to his aesthetic that made it impossible to look away.

Fuu bunched her knees against her chest, drawing herself in as though it would keep her thoughts secret and confined. Water sloshed around and spilled over the side of the tub as she moved. Her lips accidentally grazed the skin of one kneecap, a fleeting pressure against her mouth, and she momentarily wondered what kissing Jin would feel like.

She attempted to imagine herself in some typical situation—maybe they would walk back from dinner one night, stomachs full of something warm and satisfying, and there would be a bridge over the creek, empty of any other townspeople, and he would quietly say her name in his low, lovely voice before taking her hand and softly tugging her toward him, tilting her chin up with his fingertips barely pressing at her jaw, then leaning down to touch his lips to hers…

Fuu audibly squealed, completely embarrassed as she submerged her face in the bathwater and exhaled through her nose. Hundreds of tiny bubbles tickled her blushing cheeks. She felt completely ridiculous, yet giddy nonetheless. A romantic Jin seemed pretty unrealistic, but imagination could be a powerful thing if she let it.

She couldn’t help but keep going down this stupid path and be curious about Mugen too. If he even found her remotely worth his time, he would make sure she knew it the entire time he graced her with his presence. He was obnoxious and cocky that way, always taking what he wanted whether he had permission or not. 

She would probably be falling asleep one night, lying on the floor and facing the wall of their hotel room, too tired to wait up for the guys. The door would slide open and shut with a hollow smack of wood hitting wood, which would just slightly rouse her from her sleep as whoever walked in practically rolled onto the floor and stretched out. She would know it was Mugen by his unmistakable growled curses under his breath, but he wouldn’t be drunk, just a little tired from a day of manual labor. He would try to get her attention to see if she was still awake, pausing just long enough to hear her hum lazily in response before rolling even further and pressing his body into her back, gripping her arm with a calloused hand and sliding it beneath the folds of her kimono, feeling around with his palm, the hardened patches of his skin scratching against her chest. She would try to protest and yell an insult at him or hit him with a firm fist to the face until his stubble started to scrape her neck and his hot breath washed over the corner of her jaw, making her mouth water for reasons she had yet to fully comprehend. 

Whatever he would whisper raspily in her ear wouldn’t be affectionate or charming, but it would make her want to turn into the crook of his arm and face him as he smirked wickedly, pulled her lips apart with his thumb, and leaned down to claim her mouth with his own. His kisses would definitely involve lots of tongue. He just seemed like that type. Kissing him would be full of feverishly hot, panting breaths and hands wandering to inappropriate places.

Suddenly, Fuu felt the need to leave the bath. Immediately. The day had been far too warm, and _far_ too long, and the exhaustion was clearly messing with her head. She scrambled to towel off any extra water before throwing on her bathrobe, tying the sash tight enough to strangle someone. Something strange had gotten into her. She never, ever gave these kinds of thoughts the time of day, and there was no chance she would make that day the exception. Vigorously enough to yank at her scalp, she scrubbed the towel through her hair as though it would expel the insanity brewing in her head, consequently sending drops of water all over the floor which she almost slipped on while putting on her sandals. 

A loud bang on the door drew a startled yelp from her throat. 

“Yo, shorty, hurry up! If you’re not out in ten seconds I’m coming in there with you. You might wanna get your skinny ass out of the way, though. I’m sweating like a fuckin’ pig today,” Mugen shouted from the other side of the door, still banging rather disruptively. Fuu thought her heart would leap out of her body through her throat.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m leaving,” she yelled back, a little breathless as she shoved her still-damp laundry into one of her arms and held the chest of her robe closed with the other. When she swung open the door, Mugen was directly in front of her, already shirtless with his towel around his neck and food in his hands. He shoved an entire onigiri into his mouth and smacked loudly as he chewed it, grinning smugly at her all the while. She averted her eyes, trying not to roll them, and walked past him without a word. Secretly, she was grateful he was as nasty as he was—it made her daydream disappear in a puff of smoke and her nerves settle nearly back to normal.

“What’s with the attitude? See something you like?” Fuu could almost hear his eyebrows wiggle as he called after her, but she kept walking with her chin high.

“You wish,” she muttered to herself, shuffling down the hallway and consciously ignoring that her heart still hammered inside her ribcage.

Jin was definitely more her type.


End file.
